


A Kiss is Just a Kiss

by sgamadison



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-13
Updated: 2012-04-13
Packaged: 2017-11-03 13:32:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/381863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sgamadison/pseuds/sgamadison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wildly possessive and needy!John.  Bizarre use of DH's imbd.  You're on your own, folks!</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Kiss is Just a Kiss

“Hurry up, McKay, we’re going to be late. I need those test results you promised if I’m going to convince Elizabeth to let us try those modifications.”

Rodney’s voice sounded pained as it carried through the closed door of the bathroom. “I can’t hurry it up, Sheppard. Lunch didn’t agree with me, okay? Though why would it? Years of domestication have resulted in a loss of ability to digest roots and tubers unless they’ve been boiled until they completely give up. You go on without me—I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He punctuated his statement with a low groan.

Under other circumstances, that might have sounded sexy. John shook his head. He really had to stop thinking about Rodney in those terms. It was getting ridiculous if Rodney being sick to his stomach in the bathroom could make John wonder what kind of noises he’d make in bed. That was entering creepy-obsession territory. Or maybe he just really, really needed to get laid.

Rodney-watching had become a bad habit of his. He couldn’t really remember when it started. It might have been when he’d noticed what a fine ass Rodney had. It was hard not to notice that, particularly when that ass was so very often on prominent display as Rodney crawled in and out from under consoles. On the other hand, it could have been the nipple thing—how could you not notice the man’s nipples? They were visible under almost every shirt he wore, and since Rodney would have undoubtedly let everyone know if he was cold, the only other conclusion was that nipple porn was a normal state for him. Nipple-watching gave way to admiring the breadth of his shoulders, and then the movement of his hands… the first time John saw Rodney competently strap on a thigh holster was the first time the occasional, appreciative observations had turned into true fantasy fodder.

He gave himself a mental shake. This was getting bad. He had to stop thinking about McKay in these terms. Rodney had somehow gone from being that irritable-but-really-smart guy that he wanted on his team to being one of John’s best friends without either of them actually acknowledging how unusual that situation was. Rodney had also made it perfectly clear what kind of sexual partner he fancied, and John was about as far away from Rodney’s fantasy lover as a guy could get. Operative word being _‘guy’._

An image of Rodney’s crooked, quirky grin flashed into John’s mind, along with how Rodney’s eyes lit up when he was excited—which was most of the time. The day he’d realized that Rodney’s eyes were the color of the Lantean sea was the day he admitted he had a problem, but still he couldn’t stop thinking about Rodney’s innate attractiveness. If Rodney’s type was buxom blondes that also happened to be extremely intelligent, then John’s was smart-assed geniuses with broad shoulders and a generous ass. And, if he was perfectly honest with himself, someone who was usually unobtainable. For a brief second, he wondered if that masochistic streak in him was ingrained or trained.

“I can’t go to the meeting without the information, McKay. That’s the _point_ of the meeting.” Frustration made him sound angry—he was conscious that his voice became deep and growling as a result. _Good._ Let McKay think he was mad. That was better than him realizing John was half-crazy with lust every time he was around.

“For crying out loud, Sheppard, radio Elizabeth and tell her I’m going to be late. Or better yet, reschedule.”

John felt bad. Rodney didn’t sound very good.

“Look, is there anything you can give me? I can just give her a quick run down on it, get her approval, and then we can start working toward the prototype on one of the jumpers. I don’t need much—just something to give her an idea of what it’s capable of saving us in the long run.”

“Your lack of sympathy here is nothing short of… Oh, never mind. You know what? Just take my laptop. Oh. Wait. No, no, no. On second thought, do you have a flash drive on you? Because all you really need is the preliminary data file. Yes, that’s all you should take with you, because anything else would undoubtedly be confusing to you. I mean, to Elizabeth. To both of you.” 

Rodney sounded a little panicky and John grinned. _He must have something on his laptop he doesn’t want me to see._ Porn, no doubt.

“Yeah, I got a flash drive.” Rodney’s computer was already up and running—John pulled the flash drive out of his pocket and plugged it into the USP port on the side. He already had the file menu open and was scanning the folders when Rodney called out directions as to how to find the file that John needed.

It didn’t take John long to find the folder on the experimental drive for the jumper. It took him a bit longer to find the folder he thought was the one Rodney was keeping from him. It was under Documents>Download>Videos>Personal. John’s hand hovered over the touch pad as he debated whether to open it. He decided against it in the end—it would be embarrassing if it opened in the middle of some impossibly busty blonde crying in ecstasy as she got nailed by some hot stud. John found that he’d broken into a light sweat at the thought of watching something that turned Rodney on—even if it was a little disappointing to realize that the two of them would enjoy the video for completely different reasons. He suddenly pictured the two of them watching the porn together—Rodney’s amazing blue eyes dilating as he watched the guy on screen slide his dick in and out of… 

“Did you find it?” Rodney called out from the bathroom. 

Jolted out of his fantasy, John clicked on the Send To option. _Why the hell not?_ John could get off on this later in the privacy of his own quarters. He only had a small twinge of guilt as he stole Rodney’s file. It was probably an illegal download in the first place.

“Got it,” he answered, disengaging the flash drive. He stood up and adjusted himself, wishing that he didn’t have a meeting to go to right now. “Catch you later, McKay.”

“I’ll still be here,” Rodney answered morosely.

****

He’d almost forgotten all about the video by the time he got to his quarters that evening. Almost. He sat on the end of his bed and was in the act of removing his boots when he remembered it. He pulled the drive out of his pocket and looked at it with a grin. Okay, so maybe buxom blondes weren’t his kind of thing, but male porn stars had great bodies, even if they usually couldn’t act their way out of paper bag. Sex was sex, too, and John needed some new jerk-off material. He bet that Rodney jerked off to it as well, and just picturing what that must look like made him start to get hard. Yeah, this could be cool.

John glanced at his watch. It was late enough that it was unlikely he’d get called out again unless it was a true emergency. Decision made, he stripped down to just his T-shirt and boxers before setting up the laptop on the bed. He made himself comfortable propped against the headboard and pulled up the file, smiling to himself as he hit ‘play’.

He was a little surprised to see that it appeared to be a homemade video. Rodney struck him as the kind of guy that had standards when it came to porn, so John figured this must be good. He checked the length of the video and noted it was almost an hour long—which meant this was probably a series of vignettes. All the better. Maybe John could watch a new section each day and stretch out the novelty a bit longer. He ignored the voice that suggested he was pathetic and shoved his hand underneath the waistband of his briefs, relaxing a little as it closed over his cock. Damn, that felt good.

It took him a second longer to realize that it wasn’t a homemade video after all, but rather a cheap production of a bad movie. Disappointed, he withdrew his hand out of his boxers and sighed. The film was obviously dated sometime in the eighties, given the big hair on all the characters. It didn’t seem to be the entire film either—just some random clips. John frowned, trying to figure out why Rodney would even have such a file, when the woman on the screen went to the door and opened it—and Rodney was standing there.

Okay, a really young Rodney—hell, he looked barely legal. John caught his breath when he recognized that long, narrow nose and those blue eyes, but he was startled by the angularity of Rodney’s face and the tousled curls that fell over his forehead. Onscreen Rodney began speaking—it was obvious the girl wanted nothing to do with him—but John didn’t hear the dialog because he was fascinated by Rodney’s slightly crooked teeth and his amazing eyelashes.

The girl shut the door in Rodney’s face and the scene changed to one with Rodney, apparently in the role of some drugged-out loser, spoke with someone in a bar. John couldn’t believe it, and yet something Rodney had once said about how ‘scholarships don’t pay for everything’ made him wonder if taking bit parts in bad movies was one way Rodney had paid his way through school. It was a side to Rodney that John had never imagined and it intrigued him. It also made him want to tease Rodney mercilessly about it. Of course, he’d have to explain why he stole the file, but it would be worth it for the teasing alone.

John snorted as the scene changed to another movie, and Rodney was dressed like a poor man’s extra from West Side Story. This time he was an angry gang leader, and once John’s amusement subsided, he was stunned by how painfully thin Rodney was. Rodney might have had the face of an angel when he was in his twenties, but John thought he preferred the older Rodney, the one with more muscle, even if he had less hair.

As though the thought of angels conjured one up, the next scene had John dropping his jaw in disbelief as Rodney, with a head of golden curls and an astonishing amount of makeup, appeared onscreen in some sort of barely-there angel costume. He had a sour expression on his face, which was so like Rodney that John felt a weird little burst of recognition. This was the Rodney he knew. He was grinning at the laptop, thinking of all the Cupid jokes he could spring on Rodney, when Rodney turned and began to walk down a corridor away from the camera.

His ass was bare. John stared, mesmerized by the sight of that perfect peach of an ass, the muscles flexing and smoothing with each uncaring, ambling stride. John’s cock suddenly remembered how this little viewing session had started out and began to show its appreciation for such a fine display. The scene ended and John hastily backed up the video feed to show it again. And again. The forth time he played it, he began to feel a little guilty. After all, this was _Rodney_ he was looking at. Without his knowledge or permission.

He justified it by telling himself that Rodney made these films in the first place and that even though he’d probably been a starving student at the time, he had to have known they’d surface at some point. His face was simply too distinctive to go unnoticed. Had he been counting on the relative obscurity of these films and a false identity to keep his colleagues from ever finding out?

John mentally shrugged. _Whatever._ The clips were potentially embarrassing to someone with Rodney’s credentials, but nothing more. Nothing he couldn’t withstand, either. Hell, not being able to tell anyone about his work in Atlantis was probably bugging Rodney more than the knowledge that these old, cheesy films were out there somewhere.

He played the grumpy angel clip again, still fascinated by the perfection of Rodney’s ass. _Damn._ He could see himself now—self-inserting into the film, following Rodney down the hallway and into a small, dark room, where he would come up behind him and place each hand on Rodney’s hip, pressing his cock up against that ass, enjoying the friction of cloth against skin before unzipping his fly…

Distracted, the clip ended and moved into the next one before he could rewind it. John was reaching for the keypad to back up the video again when his hand froze over the controls. This time the production was of a much higher quality. Rodney was older now—the blond curls were gone. He was still lean and angular—but no longer a starving boy. He was a soldier home from WWII, walking stiffly, and leaning on a cane. He was with another soldier and a woman who was apparently the other guy’s fiancé. Rodney looked as though he knew he was a third wheel and John could sympathize. Rodney’s character ended up going on a booze run so that the two young lovers could be together—only the woman froze up during the lovemaking.

_Where was this going?_ Interested, John kept watching.

Rodney’s character returned to the room with the booze and the three of them rapidly reached that level of drunkenness where you say things you probably shouldn’t. John felt tense just watching the creeping antagonism between Best Friend and Best Girl and knew that if Rodney ever got serious about anyone it would be the same way between John and the girl. Oh sure, the Katie Browns of this world would be sweet about it, but they’d see John as a threat anyway. Even if they didn’t really know to what extent.

The conversation turned to marriage, with Rodney and the woman taking turns feinting and making parries with words. Rodney, his face relaxed with alcohol, was still sharp enough to realize he was her target. John didn’t smile when Rodney made his trademark finger-snap hand smack. The subtext of the conversation was becoming apparent to John now.

In the end, for the sake of appearances, the woman left the two men together when it came time to retire for the night. They continued to drink, and spoke of what it was like returning from war.

John brought his hand back from the laptop to rest it casually on his cock. There was something about the interaction between the two soldiers that made him hold his breath when they looked at each other. He didn’t let it out until that sardonic, crooked smile appeared on Rodney’s face and the two men began to kiss.

_Holy mother-fucking mother of god._ Because that was the last thing John expected. The two men were kissing as if it was the last day on earth and they’d never have another chance at this again. John’s cock, rigid and hard, pushed up against the thin material of his boxer shorts and into his hand, which closed reflexively around it.

This wasn’t some college student trying to make ends meet. Rodney was an adult; presumably already well into his career. He had to have known what kinds of risks he was taking here. 

It made it all the hotter.

As John watched, the two men began stripping each other of their clothing—loosening the ties, slipping out of suspenders, unbuttoning shirts and ruthlessly pushing them off each other’s shoulders. They broke their kiss only long enough to step back and pull off their T-shirts with a purposeful intensity that seemed almost angry.

When they crashed back together, they clutched at each other’s skin, mouths seeking and finding each other even as bare chests and dog tags came together.

The kiss was amazing, and John wondered if Rodney could ever kiss him with that passion, that sheer, naked _need._

Onscreen, Rodney’s hands fumbled at the guy’s belt, and John groaned along with the other actor when Rodney tugged his pants down far enough so that Rodney could cup his package. Rodney sank to his knees and looked up at the other man, licking his lips as he smiled.

_Fuck this._ John couldn’t stop himself now if Rodney had actually walked into the room. When the other man onscreen stepped out of his pants and shorts, using Rodney’s shoulder as a brace, John hastily shoved his boxers down as well, taking his eyes off the screen only long enough to fumble around in the nightstand drawer for a bottle of lube. His fingers were clumsy as he clicked open the bottle and poured some into his hand. Onscreen, Rodney took the other man’s cock into his mouth, one hand firmly around the shaft. John took hold of himself at the same time.

“Fuck, yeah, _Michael_ ,” the man said, closing his eyes, and tipping his head back as Rodney hollowed his cheeks and began to bob up and down along the end his cock. 

The name Michael threw John out of the moment and he debated muting the sound—only then he would miss hearing the happy little moans that Rodney was making—the pleased, ecstatic sounds he made as he sucked cock, the sound of wetness against skin. Rodney looked as though he was really enjoying himself and John was torn between closing his eyes and imagining that Rodney was sucking him or watching Rodney onscreen.

In the end, watching won. Especially when Rodney smiled around the other man’s cock and looked up at him briefly before going back to stroking and teasing with his tongue. He pulled off with a small slurp of sound and got to his feet to kiss the other man again.

“You’re stopping?” The other actor sounded dazed when Rodney ended the kiss and John, watching with half-lidded eyes as he slowly jacked himself, didn’t think he was acting at this point.

Rodney ducked his chin and flashed what John thought of as his ‘evil elf’ grin at the actor as he unbuckled his belt and began taking off his own khakis pants.

“Only so you can fuck me yourself,” he said. The camera _loved_ him. It showcased his wicked grin, the delight in his eyes, his growling need to be fucked. 

The scene shifted and the two men were bent over the end of the bed now—Rodney naked and braced on his hands on mattress, folded over at the waist while the other man lined up his cock, shining with lube and a condom, and pushed slowly within.

John knew he should stop watching—this wasn’t his to watch. He couldn’t help it though. He was too close to the edge himself now. When the man on camera began thrusting with a steady rhythm, the sound of his dick sliding in and out in synchrony with Rodney’s soft little grunts, John picked up his pace to match the rhythm. That ass was _his,_ damn it. He wasn’t going to share Rodney with some nameless actor. It should be his dick sliding home between those sweet cheeks, his fingers holding on to Rodney’s hips hard enough to leave bruises.

Rodney arched his back and shifted his weight enough to take hold of his own cock, which was bouncing with the pounding he was getting. He began to jerk off furiously and the sight pushed John over the edge. With a groan, John pushed back into the headboard of the bed and felt the muscles of his ass and thighs tighten until it was almost painful, his heels digging down into the mattress as he came. His release shuddered through him even as he watched the actor pull out of Rodney and shoot come all over that perfect ass.

The scene still played on while he lay in a happy little endorphin-induced haze. Onscreen, the two men lay together on the bed—Rodney on his stomach with that magnificent ass for the entire world to see and the other guy lying on his side to look at him. They looked peaceful and sated. They began talking about the future—but John could already see that Rodney needed to get out—to get away from this guy who wanted the best of all worlds and was willing to make Rodney unhappy in order to have him too.

The first small nigglings of guilt and self-loathing were starting to form in John’s mind when it was revealed that the woman had set the whole thing up in order to trap the two men in bed together. The police came to the room and arrested Rodney and the other guy, dragging them half-naked in cuffs into the hallway for everyone to see. 

Vindictive and full of hate, the woman ruthlessly exposed the illegal relationship, not caring about the ramifications for the two soldiers in that time and place. Her need for revenge stripped her face of any prettiness—she reminded John of the Wicked Witch of the West as she publicly accused her former finance and Rodney of buggery.

Rodney’s reaction cut through John like a slice of cold steel. He lunged at the woman, held back only by several policemen. 

“Do you know what you’ve _done?_ ” His impotent fury and fear were painful to watch.

It was such an utter shock that it took John’s breath away. He felt the blood drain from his face as the scene unfolded, reminding him of all the reasons why he could never act upon his feelings for Rodney. He watched as the two men were led away in front of flashing cameras to an unknown fate.

The scene laid bare John’s fantasy for what it was: a shallow facsimile of any sort of real relationship, a replacement for putting anything resembling emotions or his career on the line. It made him sick. His self-loathing reached an all-new high, even for him, and he pushed out of the bed to take the hottest shower that Atlantis could provide.

 

****

“Crap. What the heck did you do to my jumper, McKay? She handles like a Winnebago.” John fought with the jumper, which was wallowing like a cow, as he tried to enact the test pattern that Rodney had designed to put the new drive through its paces.

“Oh, so it’s _your_ jumper now? Who made you Prince of Atlantis? No, don’t bother telling me. Everyone knows the city is the president of your fan club.” Rodney didn’t look up from his data pad, which he was bracing against his chest with one arm while he frowned and typed with his other hand. His gaze was fixed on the information scrolling into the screen. “Damn. Okay, how close are we to land? Can you set it down somewhere? I need to make some adjustments.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to do that back in the launch bay?” John glanced out of the windshield at the shoreline ahead. No doubt, he could find a stretch of beach wide enough for a landing, but their flight path had taken them away from the mainland out to these island keys. If Rodney started taking the drive apart and they ran into trouble getting back into the air, they’d be stuck until help could arrive. Better not to land at all if the repairs could wait until they got home.

“It will be easier to do on dry land,” Rodney said tersely.

Which was Rodney-speak for ‘land while you still can’. It was a good thing John had a Rodney translator installed a while ago. He knew that the situation was serious, but not urgent, from Rodney’s manner. _Damn._ He hoped whatever it was, Rodney could sort it out. The new drive had sounded promising.

He set the jumper down on a narrow strip of white sand and walked the shoreline while Rodney puttered with the drive. It was weird staring out on an ocean with next to no wave action—one of the biologists had explained it to him, something to do with the great coral reefs around the islands, which prevented the classic waves from forming. Pity. John was still hoping to find the perfect surfing spot on a planet that was mostly water.

The beach was pristine—save for the scattering of flotsam and broken shells along the high water mark. It was odd to think he might be the first human to set foot on this beach in a millennia or more. He noted how the sand stuck to the soles of his black boots as he walked and how the sun glittered off the turquoise waters surrounding them. He thought about vacation that Elizabeth and Dr. Heightmeyer were insisting that everyone take and how it might be cool just to come out here by himself with a lawn chair, a book, and a cooler of beer and do nothing but read and take in the rays for a week or so.

He paused on the shore to look out over the water, taking out his aviator glasses to shield his eyes. The real problem here wasn’t that he needed time off. What he needed was some crisis, some critical emergency to get his mind focused and back on the job. Life in Pegasus had been disturbingly quiet lately and that was giving him too much time to think. 

The beach was sunny and warm—too warm in fact. John rapidly began to feel the heat through his black BDU’s. Reluctant to shed clothing until he knew how long they were going to be there, he headed back to the jumper to check on Rodney’s status.

To his surprise, Rodney was calmly waiting for his return—sitting in the co-pilot’s chair and sipping from a cold bottle of Molson’s. On seeing John enter the jumper, he reached down into the small cooler at his feet and pulled out another bottle from the ice, handing it to John.

“Thought it wouldn’t take you long to see if I was done yet,” Rodney said with a smirk. “You have the attention span of a 12 year old.” 

John curled a lip at his sense of humor and took the offered beer cautiously. The first sip was perfect—just what the day called for—but John was suspicious because that implied Rodney knew they were going to be stopping on the beach and that implied _planning…_

“Did you just make the jumper run out of gas?” He spoke without fully recognizing the implications of what he’d just said until heartbeat after the words left his mouth. He grimaced and took another swig of beer. He could have taken off the shades, but he liked the sense of protection they gave him.

Rodney looked briefly amused before a look of speculation passed over his features. He drank from his bottle, picking at the label as he spoke. “That’s one way of putting it. I couldn’t think of any other way to get a moment with you. I mean, a moment of your undivided attention. Where, you know, we weren’t running for our lives, or racing the clock to save the day, or filling out paperwork, or the usual stuff. You know. A day in the Life, Pegasus style.”

John did know. Even on a quiet day in Atlantis, there was always someone or some thing needing his attention. He just didn’t know why Rodney wanted to talk to him privately or why he looked so nervous. He remained standing, feeling uncomfortably like he needed to be near the door in case a bolt-and-run was in order.

“Okay,” he drawled. “You’ve got my attention. So shoot.”

Rodney winced at his words and looked up from his bottle. A little snow shower of label pieces had formed at his feet. “Okay, fine.” Rodney snapped into irritated mode in a flash, despite the fact that this had been his idea in the first place. “What the hell have I done to piss you off?”

John felt his eyebrows rise, even as he rocked back on his heels a bit at the unexpected question. “I’m not pissed at you, McKay. Whatever makes you say that?”

“Ever since we started this project, you’ve hardly said two words to me.” He pointed at John with the neck of the nearly empty bottle. “You’ve avoided spending any time alone with me—I’m beginning to think I smell bad or something. You didn’t really want to come out on this test flight with me today—and we’re talking _test flight_ here. Whenever I turn around, you’re there staring at me—and yet you seem to have trouble making eye contact. Even now, you’re hiding behind your fucking hotshot fighter pilot shades. So I’m asking again, what the fuck is your problem with me?”

The tips of John’s ears grew so hot they felt like they were burning and he could feel the flush steal over his face. He quickly swallowed more beer—as much for the coolness as the delaying tactic before speaking. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re imagining things.”

“I don’t think so.” Rodney finished his beer and set the bottle down on the floor beside his chair. “Even Ronon has commented on it.”

“Teyla put you up to this, didn’t she?” It all made sense now. Rodney wouldn’t have come up with this all on his own.

Rodney looked triumphantly superior, which was a big relief over his looking hurt and insecure. “Duh, Teyla said to talk to you. No surprises there.” Rodney shot him a glace that indicated what he thought of the sweet predictability of Teyla’s advice. Teyla could pretty much be guaranteed to suggest talking things out over almost any circumstance—except when it came to the Wraith. Her ‘take no prisoners’ attitude toward them nicely balanced all that advice about ‘communication’ and crap.

“Teyla said to talk to you—I chose the venue.” Rodney continued. “I thought you might be more comfortable on sacred ground. This was the closest I could come to a den with a widescreen television and a football game on in the background.”

Rodney’s moment of humor vanished again as he looked up at John. He leaned back in his seat and rested his hands on his thighs. “I also thought it might be wise to do this where you had no real place to run,” he added shrewdly.

“So the jumper is fixed?” John asked, glancing at the controls. He was beginning to think it was never really broken in the first place.

“Not until I say it is.” Rodney crossed his arms in front of his chest.

John sighed. “It’s not your problem, it’s mine, okay? I’ll get over it. I just need a little time.”

“You’ll get over it?” Rodney sat up straight, dropping his pose and looking agitated. “That means there _is_ something bugging you. Crap, what is it? What the fuck have I done to lose your respect?” 

“Whoa!” John held out his hands in ‘placate-Rodney’ mode, nearly spilling his beer in the process. “I never said… you didn’t… it doesn’t…” He trailed off with a growling noise as he wondered how the hell he’d get out of this one without hurting Rodney’s feelings.

_Just tell him._ He could hear the words in Teyla’s voice as clearly as if she’d been there beside him, whispering in his ear. He was tempted to drum his heels like a small boy, pout, and yell that he didn’t want to, but really, what was he going to tell Rodney otherwise?

“No, no, no,” Rodney said emphatically. “Something that you can ‘get over’ sounds like pretty big deal to me.” He made the appropriate quotation marks as he spoke. “Look, tell me whatever it is and I promised I’ll try not to ever do it again, okay?” Rodney looked so earnest that John didn’t know what to do. It was the ‘try’ that nearly broke him. Rodney knew that his very Rodneyness was sometimes impossible to control.

John took another swallow of beer and was surprised that he’d emptied the bottle. He had no idea what he was supposed to do with it now. A side panel opened obligingly at his elbow, sliding a container forward until it was within easy reach. Thankfully, he placed the bottle within, and the drawer closed. If only the solution as to what to do with Rodney would present itself so neatly.

The thought had scarcely formed in his brain before the sound of some soft instrumental piece could be heard within the jumper. John didn’t even know the jumpers had a sound system. He supposed he should be grateful that the jumper hadn’t chosen to play the boom-chugga-chugga kind of soundtrack from a typical porno film and froze when he realized what he’d just thought.

“Are you doing this?” Rodney looked around and John had a hopeful moment where the conversation might get tabled when Rodney bound to his feet and began searching for the speakers. He caught himself, though, and shot a narrow-eyed glare at John. “Oh no, you’re not going to get out of this so easily, Colonel. We’re not leaving until we get to the bottom of this.”

“I may have accidentally come across something on your laptop the other day,” John blurted out before the jumper decided to make things any worse. 

Rodney stared at him in frowning concentration until enlightenment dawned, and John saw all the color drain from his face before returning in twice the force. His lips parted and his eyes dilated. He looked like he’d been shot.

“Oh, wow,” he said weakly. “I mean, wow. I shouldn’t… I meant to… I don’t even know why I…” He opened and closed his mouth helplessly a few times before visibly steeling himself for John’s disapproval. “Right. Just so we’re clear on the subject, we’re talking about some files of a personal nature on my laptop, right?”

John nodded.

“Which was it? The angel outfit?” Rodney’s grin was forced. “Look, even low budget films paid a lot for the investment in time, comparatively speaking. I needed the money and tutoring dumb jocks who only wanted to pass the class was a huge time sink and didn’t pay nearly enough.” He held John’s gaze, willing him to say that was the clip he’d seen.

It would have been easy enough to do. John could have suggested that was the only one he’d watched. He and Rodney could have a good laugh about it and they could go back to the way things were before. But John kept thinking about the look on Rodney’s face when he was sucking that cock and how that wasn’t just a college student trying to pay the bills. He also knew that if he left the lie between them like this, it was the beginning of the end of their friendship. They’d be okay on the surface, but this would come between them, with John pulling away to avoid confronting Rodney on it until they were no more than friendly colleagues, if that. 

John was nothing if not a risk taker. He took off his sunglasses and hung them in the collar of his shirt.

“No, the one about the soldiers.”

“Ah.” Rodney’s face fell. He nodded a few times, as if this was the answer he’d expected. “Look, I can explain—”

“You don’t have to explain.” John cut him off sharply and ran a hand through his hair distractedly. “Damn it, Rodney. It was my fault, okay? It was your personal business and I was snooping. I’m sorry.”

Rodney’s eyes widened when he realized that there really was no way John could have ‘accidentally’ stumbled across the video and John knew in another second, he’d also realize that John couldn’t have seen it before he left the room that day—there hadn’t been enough time.

“I thought it was porn. Well, I mean, you know. The other kind of porn. I put it on my flash drive and watched it that evening. It was wrong of me and I’m sorry.” 

“You’re sorry.” Rodney’s face was so brittle with suppressed emotion John thought it might shatter into tiny shards that would slice him to ribbons. “Well, then. What do you plan to do about it?”

“Do about it?” John was puzzled. “I’m not going to do anything about it, Rodney. I crossed a line and I’m sorry. What do you want me to do?”

Rodney made an impatient gesture. “I’m not looking for anything beyond an apology right now. I’m working my way up to being really good and mad, mind you, so that’s not to say that there’s not some retribution coming your way in the future, but that’s not important at the moment. This is obviously affecting how you feel about me as a person. Do you want me off your team?”

“God no. Rodney, this isn’t about me being disgusted or not being able to handle the fact that you made a gay porn film. What you do with your personal life is of no business of mine.”

“Then what the hell is it?” Rodney moved into his space, angry now. His fists were clenched at his sides and his eyes snapped with fury. John felt physically threatened by Rodney for the first time ever and whoa, wasn’t that a heady rush?

“I thought it was hot.” John spat the words out before he could change his mind.

Rodney did a double take so classic that it almost made John laugh out loud. “Seriously?”

“Yeah,” John’s voice was so soft it was practically a sigh. “I can’t think about anything else.”

“Seriously?” Rodney looked at him now as though he might be suffering from the influence of some alien pollen and John gave him a rueful little grin.

“I might have already been a little… fixated… before the video.” He winced when he spoke, wishing he could give himself a dopeslap and be done with it.

“On me?” Rodney’s voice squeaked a little.

“Yes, McKay,” John snapped, the tension starting to get to him. “I happen to be into guys. And you’re my type, okay? With the shoulders and the waving hands and the snappy fingers and the snarky retorts.” He sloppily mimed Rodney’s hallmark hand movements before pausing to take a deep breath. “But the way that clip ended—it nearly… I just couldn’t… I just _can’t…_ ” he trailed off helplessly.

“I know,” Rodney said quietly. “It’s why I made the film when a friend asked me. I read the script and it really got to me. I’d left acting behind by then but I really wanted to do this one. Well, for a lot of reasons.” Rodney chewed on the inside of his cheek. 

“That’s my life, Rodney.”

Rodney’s expression became thoughtful. “It won’t always be that way for you military types. Things _are_ getting better. And, personal video files not withstanding, I can be discreet.” 

John thought about Rodney’s fumbling clumsiness around women that he was attracted to and saw nothing discreet in that. He started to point that out when it struck him that maybe Rodney was nervous in those situations because it was all an act. 

John was never one to stand around waiting to make up his mind. He was a man of action—when he saw an opening, he took it. 

As he’d done on other occasions, he curled his fingers into Rodney’s tac vest. This time, instead of dragging Rodney along in his wake, he pulled him closer. He scanned Rodney’s wide-eyed expression until he saw the beginnings of that crooked smile and then kissed him as if the world was ending and this was his only chance.

~fin~


End file.
